#i would just see some dotted around randomly

[bunnymedley]

yea i made a new creative world in terralith and set the generation to extra large biomes and i think that helps but im still not sure on it... i rly like some of these new biomes but i dont think i like having a bunch of blocks and things that are normally kind of exclusive to certain areas suddenly showing up randomly in a bunch of different places, like it doesnt matter or anything but it feels kinda off and less special

[nereidprinc3ss]

please don't say you love me

in which fwb!spencer reid and fem!reader get into an argument about the nature of their relationship.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: friends with benefits arrangement, it goes bad, reader is so clearly anxious avoidant, reader is so me-coded, self-loathing, difficulties with emotional intimacy, arguing, derek and penelope make an appearance woo, a little dramatic, no happy ending (a nereidprinc3ss first!) a/n: it happened guys I stopped writing for a few days and last night randomly was inspired to finish this fwb piece and it essentially turned into a vent and went a completely different direction than i thought it would but here we are!!! i hope you enjoy, I loved writing, ilysm

“Are you reading it? Did you get to the part yet?” You ask, buzzing as you peer around Spencer’s arm to see where he’s at in the book you’d handed him. Sometimes you think it takes him longer to flip the pages than to read them. 

He doesn’t answer, but you see the flickering quirk of his lip like something is amusing him. It’s been a few minutes and he’s maybe halfway through. He has to have seen it by now. 

You’re clinging to his arm, eyes darting pointlessly between the text and his face, searching for a reaction. It comes in the form of a furrowed brow, a disbelieving smile, and something between a barking laugh and an exclamation of, “what?”

“You read it?”

His eyes narrow and he flips back a page, taking a bit longer to reevaluate. 

“Our moans and grunts drowned out the screams of the dead and dying only a few hundred feet away.”

You giggle furiously, clapping a hand to your mouth when you snort, and you feel Spencer’s focus shifting to you, even with your eyes screwed shut. 

“And you read this whole series?”

At that you sober up some, still hiding the bottom half of your face and brows drawn sorrowfully as mirthful tears well. You’re slow to admit your guilt with a nod, and his expression is somewhere between horror and fascination. 

Your cheeks heat and you cover your face, laughing again and shaking your head shamefully as he ridicules you. 

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even know if I can be seen in public with you, that’s—” he’s haphazardly tossed the book back on its display table and grabbed your wrists, pulling gently and laughing too. “No, show me your face. This is—you need to explain yourself. This is unforgivable.” 

“No! I swear it was a morbid curiosity, I didn’t like it, I’m sorry! I—”

“Reid?”

You both freeze. 

It’s not the most dignified position, admittedly—hidden among the shelves in a bookstore, pressed too close to be friendly, his hands around your wrists. 

So you don’t mind when he drops them like hot potatoes and gives you a few inches of breathing room. 

“Hey! Uh—you’re—”

Spencer is looking between you and two other people at the end of the aisle—a quirky bespectacled blonde in a flouncy polka-dot dress and her taller companion, ripped and head shaved, sporting some impressive eyebrows. Right now they’re conspicuously raised—his eyes are also pinballing between you and Spencer. 

For a moment, everyone is just sort of… looking at each other. 

It’s a little bit… awful?

Finally Spencer clears his throat. 

“Um, what are you guys doing here? Just… looking at books?”

Something is off, and you feel like shrinking or running, but you just stay glued to your spot. 

In sync, they hold up copies of the same book—and it takes you not a second to place the author’s name, in imposing red font at the bottom like it’s important. Rossi. 

The pieces click into place. These must be Spencer’s co-workers—Penelope and Derek, if his descriptions of the team have served you well. Part of you is starstruck. Part of you is embarrassed. They’re clearly shocked to see Spencer with a girl in the wild, so you know he hasn’t told them about you—and why should he, you think, why should he tell his friends about the girl he’s been sleeping with for months now? 

Finally, the blonder half of the duo speaks. 

“You’re—this is a girl. That’s. Who is that? Hi! Who are you?”

She’s literally pointing at you, eyes drifting between you and Spencer like it just doesn’t make any sense. Derek gives her a look and gently pushes her hand down. 

“Hey. That’s enough.” Then he offers you a polite smile, though you sense a bit strained, and his eyes too keep wandering back to the man next to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no! You’re not… interrupting…” Spencer trails off and you sense he’s looking at you and gauging a reaction but you’re just smiling idly at his friends and waiting for this to be over. He finally thinks to introduce you by name, and you offer a shy wave and a smile to your new acquaintances. 

Penelope points (that damn finger again) but this time it’s less accusatory, and stays below chin level. 

“Cool shirt. I love that band,” she offers genially. Your brows raise and you look down, trying to remember what shirt you’d tossed on before leaving Spencer’s apartment an hour ago. 

“Oh! Thanks,” you smile, and you’re relieved to mean it this time. 

Another frosty silence begins to descend, but Derek doesn’t let it settle so much this time, to everyone’s satisfaction. 

“Alright, well. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your date.”

There’s too much weight on the last sentence, and Derek gives Spencer a eyebrows-raised-meaningfully look you don’t understand. You’re just glad Spencer keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t immediately insist that it’s not a date, because it’s not, and that’s fine, but the vehement denial would bum you out. 

The pair walk away in the kind of clenched silence that means they’ll start fervently whispering as soon as they are out of ear shot. You watch their retreating figures and chew your lip, sensing that the carefree and playful energy of five minutes ago will have evaporated by the time you turn back to face your companion. 

“Strange,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, and you’re slightly jarred when Spencer replies from beside you. 

“Which part?”

All of it. 

Turning to face him, you smile, and it doesn’t reach your eyes but it doesn’t need to. 

“Oh—nothing, sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, only stares at a point somewhere above your head and narrows his eyes like he’s thinking unpleasant thoughts. 

“Was I an asshole, to you, just now?”

It’s unexpected. You don’t have an answer prepared, so you say something that feels like a lie because you can’t prove that it’s not the truth. 

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I get weird around them, sometimes. I don’t always know what to say, like, when my personal life and my work life intersect, because for a long time I didn’t really have a personal life. And I think they still think I don’t know how to talk to girls, so…”

“You don’t know how to talk to girls,” you remind him. “Let’s go look at the puzzles.”

Maybe you spend too much time with Spencer Reid. Maybe that’s the problem—too long in his presence and he’s eating away at your neural tissue like you’ve got cysticercosis and he’s the T. solium (a terrible thing he had explained to you a few weeks ago.)

Maybe you need a break from him, to stop breathing his air and sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothing, because you’re forgetting that he’s not the entire world and that is a very bad thing to forget in a situation like yours. The entire world cannot be the size of his apartment. 

But you also just like him so much. As a friend, of course. That goes without saying. You like his strange sense of humor, and the way he lights up when you ask him an obscure question. You like your legs across his lap while you watch his old shows. You also like being kissed by him, and hugged by him. You like being taken care of like no one has ever taken care of you, and you like the way he always touches you, soft and kind and so on purpose. 

You never meant to like him so much. 

This affection—it has grown, insidious and parasitic, and now that it’s been pointed out to you like a lump in your side, it’s impossible to ignore. 

What you and Spencer have works precisely because you’ve kept things platonic and casual. That way, there’s no worrying about emotional baggage or arguing about feelings because there are none to be found and no precedent that any such things should or need to occur. You can’t hurt each other’s feelings if your feelings aren’t on the table. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about earlier?

Why can’t you help caring that he’s been keeping you a secret from the people he loves most?

“So, essentially the book is his first deep dive into meta-fiction. It was pretty revolutionary at the time, and while not his most celebrated novel, I’d argue it was his most relevant and culturally pervasive. I’d actually love to hear your interpretation of the story—it’s truly different for everyone. It’s a little like… like a literary Rorschach test. Do you wanna borrow it?”

You’re a tangle on his bed—arms, legs, sheets—it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. All you’re sure of is his hand, tracing his fingers in chaste lines, feather-light up and down your inner thigh in the way he knows you like. Usually it’s so soothing you melt and fall asleep within minutes. Right now it’s only stoking some sparking electrical fire in your chest—the buzzes and bursts from which have you on edge. Ready to cave in at any second. You wish you could relax. You’ve been trying.

Spencer is in no hurry for you to respond, and so doesn’t seem to mind when it takes you a long while to find your answer. 

“I think I need to go home.”

It comes out too scratchy, as you haven’t really spoken for several hours. Not as casual as you were going for. He angles his head down toward you and his hand stops and you realize it’s actually worse like that. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything is fine, I just… I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, I think.”

It’s late and you shouldn’t be making him drive you across town, but he’s always amenable to what you want. This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at his place, after all—a rare long weekend—and before that a few weeks had passed with no cases to speak of, during which time you’ve been staying with him more and more. Spencer seems to be completely content letting you eat his food and use his shower if it means you don’t leave. 

“I know the feeling well,” he admits, and your heart twinges with the care he takes to not bump or bend you or pull your hair as he shifts. He’s already been out of bed, and so is more dressed than you. Really, most people on the planet are more dressed than you, and you pull his nice sheet higher up your chest as he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you and with a sort of worry in his eyes. He finds your knee through the fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Stop paying such close attention, you want to tell him. And in the same breath, please don’t ever look away. 

“I’m… good.”

It is easily the least convincing performance of your life. Either you’re self sabotaging or you want him to push you further, and you don’t know which is worse. 

When his brow ramps just the slightest bit, you know you’ve fumbled it. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug. “I don’t need you to.” And then you sit up, still holding the sheet to your chest. “Can you hand me a shirt?”

Enough clothing has accumulated around the room recently that he could pretty much reach out in any direction and find something for you to wear.  He grabs a sweatshirt hanging from the bedpost and holds it out for you, and you pull it over your head, before dropping your feet onto the cool wooden floor and grabbing the first bottoms you see—a pair of floral pajama shorts. How have so many of your clothes ended up at his apartment?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoop your bag up from a chair and flit around the room, haphazardly stuffing away discarded clothing to take back home. It’s true that it’ll be nice to get back to your stuff—your shower products and your closet and your silk pillow cases. You shouldn’t be spending so much time here. It’s not your space and you’ve been sacrificing your own needs to be closer to him, which is something you’d rather not do for any man. 

“You can drive me home. I’ll send you gas money.”

“You don’t need to send me gas money,” he says, tacking your name on to the end of the sentence in a way that raises your hackles instantly. 

“Yeah, I do. You drive me around constantly. I’ll pay you back and start taking the metro, or something.”

“I don’t want your money,” he scoffs. 

“Fine. Then I’ll call a car.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m happy to drive you.”

“Why?”

Silence hangs. Spencer has by this point stood up, and he’s watching you with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips like he doesn’t understand where this animosity has come from. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure either. You didn’t realize you were harboring so much of it. 

“Am I supposed to see you as an inconvenience?”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No. You’re not. We have a relationship and I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you sure as hell were thinking it. 

It feels good to say, like stretching a sore muscle beyond its limits or pressing into a bruise until you get past the ache. Sometimes when things hurt, it’s best to feel the pain and move on. 

He looks absolutely perplexed, the lines between his brows only ditching deeper. 

“Is that what this is about?”

“Oh my god, Spencer, no, I don’t care—”

“Because earlier at the bookstore I asked you if I was being an asshole and—”

“I do not give a fuck about earlier at the fucking bookstore!”

It’s too late to be yelling, but he doesn’t scold you. He just sort of looks at you, like you’re something mildly unpleasant. It makes you feel worse. 

A long moment goes by. 

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

You let him brush past you, nothing more than a breeze on your shoulders as he disappears from the darkened bedroom. For a moment, you can’t follow him. All you can do is stand there and try to contain that sour, stinging, crying feeling in your eyes and nose because there’s no reason for you to be crying right now. 

From the living room, he calls, rather abrasively, “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” you huff, and it is as wavering as it is insolent, so obviously the only word holding back a full-fledged deluge of tears. 

One minute. One minute to sniffle and take deep breaths and wipe abashedly under your eyes because you refuse to be dramatic about this. Refuse to get over-emotional. You will not let it matter this much to you. 

When you decide you can show your face without making a scene, you march out of his bedroom and straight past where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, keys in hand, to the front door. 

He doesn’t move. You burn smoking holes into the dark wood of the door with your eyes, and the two of you are apparently at an impasse. 

“I’m ready,” you eventually snap, always the impatient one between the two of you, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder. 

“I’m not.”

“You said you would—”

“I know what I said,” Spencer cuts you off and shuts you up, “and I changed my mind. I’d prefer to talk about it before I take you home.”

By the time he finishes the sentence you’re already wrestling your phone from the depths of your bag in search of a ride sharing app. 

“Okay, well I’m done talking because I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, so—”

“No, you’re done talking because this is what you do. You can never admit it when you want something because that would mean acknowledging that you’re a human being with emotions, and that’s too scary for you.”

Surely you misheard him. You turn around, a deep frown contorting your features. 

“Excuse me?”

He only looks at you in that expectant, knowing way of his. 

“It’s too scary so you run away. You’d rather burn your relationships to the ground and rebuild them with a new person every time than actually let someone in.”

“You don’t know me!” You yell.

“Do you actually think that’s true?” Spencer says, pushing off his perch against the counter, voice shrilling and raised slightly as he gets visibly agitated. “You think I’ve spent hours upon hours with you and I don’t know you at all?”

“You have no idea what I’m like in a relationship because this isn’t one. You have no fucking idea what I want, so do not presume to,” you seethe. 

“You want a relationship. You wanted my friends to know you and you didn’t tell me that because you’re fucking terrified of the fact that I do know you. You can’t stand the idea that regardless of how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you have been vulnerable with me, and you’ve told me things you’ve never told anyone before, like why your last three relationships really ended, and how you constantly self-sabotage when you’re on the verge of getting what you want because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I’m not just going to let you walk away from me like you did everyone else who could’ve ever cared about you because I know once you walk out that door you’ll stop responding to my calls and texts and I’ll never see you again, which is a juvenile pattern and completely unsustainable if you don’t want to keep pushing people away for the rest of your life!”

“God, Spencer, stop!” You sob, staggering back like you’ve been stabbed. 

The urgency, the raw, desperate scratch of your voice, stops him in his tracks. 

Every place an arrow penetrated a chink in your armor aches, and it hurts so much worse because he knew exactly where they were. You don’t know when or how it happened, but he’s right. Despite your most valiant efforts, Spencer Reid knows you. Somehow he crept in and grew over every limb like ivy. It’s crawled over your feet and up your legs and it’s keeping you there, rooted in place in his apartment, sobbing silently into the crook of your arm because you feel utterly paralyzed with fear. 

Just as he’d said. 

It’s silent for a long stretch of time, unquantifiable the same way the distance between the beach and the horizon is unquantifiable. It’s sprawling and infinite and desolate. The only relief from the drowning quiet is the occasional gulp of air or gasp from you which furthers your humiliation. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer finally whispers, soft and unsure like rays of weak sunlight over staggered tides, in the grey morning after a raging storm. It’s an attempt. It’s earnest and afraid. 

The energy radiating off of him is so tangible that you can sense his desire to come near. To hold you. But that would be your worst nightmare come to fruition. This—this warbling and crying in front of him in silence in his dark apartment is god-awful enough. But to be comforted? For him to bear witness up close and personal to your humility and your ugly, jagged pieces—that inspires true catatonia. That is everything he said you were afraid of, and he was right. 

You resent your human nature, and the fact that you care how his friends look at you and that it stung when they did so with little more than apathy. You hate that you care that he hasn’t told them about you. You hate that you feel so unimportant—because more than anything, you want to be fine with being unimportant. 

You want to be fine. Constantly. 

You hate that you feel. You hate that you care. 

But you always have. And so fucking deeply. 

Somehow, Spencer Reid is the only one who has ever noticed. 

Eventually, his self-restraint snaps and he surges forward at the same time as you take a shuddering inhale and step back. 

“Please don’t touch me,” you whisper. Afraid that if he did, his fingers would only sink into your flesh like decaying fruit. That you would disintegrate in his hands, and he’d finally see you’d been rotten the whole time. 

He speaks softly, holding his hands up to show you he’s not a threat. 

“Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go home.”

“I’ll—”

“No. I don’t want a ride. I’ll get a car.” You speak quietly. Efficiently. There’s no point in pretending this doesn’t feel catastrophic anymore. 

His brows furrow. Like a moth to flame, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he draws nearer again. 

“I’m not comfortable with you on the street at this hour.���

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” you insist, pleading, a wounded animal, because he doesn’t seem to understand how every casual notion of kindness is a violence, how he’s ripping into you and making it so you’ll never be able to put yourself back together. He can’t be kind like you’re easy to be kind to. 

If you’re easy to be kind to, you are just as easy to hurt. Accepting that kindness is a sort of vulnerability you feel you can’t afford right now. 

Another moment of silence, of stillness, as if you’re both bolted to the ground where you stand. 

When he speaks it’s a blow to the chest because you’ve made him cry too. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, and a venomous self-hatred drips down your throat. Because you’re doing it again.

Maybe this is all you will ever be. 

You fail to stifle a sob and Spencer steps closer still, saying your name desperately and so quietly like it’s his last rite. 

And you try. You try harder than you ever have to stay in one place, to get a hold of your vibrating and to swallow all those slithery feelings and ignore every alarm telling you to panic when he reaches out to touch your arm because it’s never safe to let people in. But when his hand finally brushes you, it’s like a cow prod. You jolt backward. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper all in one harrowed breath, and there’s so much you’d like to say—you’re right, about everything, you do know me, you know what I want, I tried, I’m ashamed—but none of it matters. None of it is enough. He’s backed you into a corner of your own making, and the only way out is by pushing him aside even if it hurts you both. 

So you don’t say anything else. You leave him there, in the dark of his own apartment, and you disappear down the hall. 

Maybe this is all you will ever be.

[fancyfeathers]

Happy thanksgiving, I hope it is going well🦃

Thank you for responding to my other ask about the flinching around the batfamily. But now another question has popped up in my head, what if Daughter reader just randomly picks one of the "siblings" to cling onto for dear life. But it backfires for the sibling because uh oh! Daughter Reader met their friend and suddenly boom she has a crush on them. Example Maybe: Tim? (I love Tim he's my favorite lol.) Daughter Reader sees his "subtleness" in obsession or whatever he likes to call it😒 Reader is chilling with Tim, then KON walks in and she never whipped her head around so fast. (Obviously Tim notices.) Now not only is Tim (or any other sibling of the batfamily you'd like to use) is dealing with a clingy reader, now they're dealing with said reader constantly asking them about their friend and occasionally stealing their phone to stare at pictures of said friend. (She's a little creepy she's been cooped up in a manor for like a decade by now give her a break she's trying her best.) OR! When the batsibling's friend comes back over reader gives them a drawing she made of them Thank you reading have a lovely Day/Night! - 🐈‍⬛Anon

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Ooooo this is giving me ideas

I did make Daughter!Darling younger than Damian so Kon might be a bit too old for her (or young… he was created in a lab, but that’s a whole other can of worms)

But this gave me an ideas for two scenarios that stem from this idea…

Taking the crush aspect out of this cause of age differences with the idea with Kon, like Tim brings him around to the house for the first time while Daughter!Darling is home from school or one of the many outings that Dick takes her on of his choosing. Connor is definitely friendly to her, Tim has definitely mentioned his little sister to him, how amazing she is, how adorable, how perfect-

She looks terrified when Damian came around looking for her, mentioning something about notes in class…

Then the second time he comes around to visit, he catches a glimpse of Bruce locking her bedroom door with her inside… who does that?

Then when he came around to see Tim and he walked into the living room and he saw his friends taking photos of her just sitting and doing schoolwork and she clearly looks uncomfortable.

He finds some excuse to have Tim leave the room so he can ask her…

“Are you okay?”

“N-no…”

He felt horrible for her, but he did not have anymore time to ask questions before Tim returned. Kon is not capable of taking care of a child but he knows people who definitely can.

It’s when she is at school and out on the swings alone, Damian scared away her friends again today and…

“Hello, mind if I sit by you?”

There is a man with glasses and a visitor’s pass that comes to speak with her and she lets him, he introduces himself as Clark Kent and he lets her connect the dots. He lets her know that she can speak freely and he is here to help her and just everything spills out with tears. Clark would be horrified by what he hears, this little girl is in danger and no one had cared enough to help her and-

“Hang on tight.”

There is just a quick moment before he picks her up and they are in the air with him taking her somewhere he’ll know she’ll be safe for now anyway, with his family.

He’ll explain things to Lois and Jon, but he is sure they will understand… they have to…

The other way I could see this scenario going is…

With the idea of when she starts having a boyfriend who is a member of the Court of Owls (I mentioned him in these posts, link, link, link, link)

But Damian would have probably have made friends to help with his cover, and of course there is the most perfect boy in school, talented, smart, kind, head of the student council, on many sports teams. Then when Damian began attending that school after Talia left him with Bruce, he was the one who was we so adamant about making him feel welcome, but of course it was a fake friendship on both sides. The boy had no real interest in being Damian’s friend, but he also needs to keep up his appearance.

He could honestly care less about Damian until when they come into his first period class and introduce a new student, Damian’s little sister and when the teacher asks for volunteers to show her around the classroom, his hand shoots up. Damian is fine enough with his friend to help his sister, he won’t get close-

That is until the end of the day when he sees her walking down the steps of the school with that boy, laughing and chatting with each other. It is fine, he is a family with a good reputation-

Then when he is supposed to come over for a school project for Damian’s and his science class, he is talking to his sister after they are done working and are waiting for his driver.

Then there is the time when they just went on summer break and she comes into Damian’s room and asks for the address of the boy’s summer home because they promised to write to each other and she had his address on her phone but she got it taken away since she would only need it to call the family and she-

Damian wants to pull out his hair more and more every time she mentions this boy. This goes on for years and into high school and it all comes to a boiling point where Damian catches them making out in the stairwell.

Oh my god he wants to kill them, wants to rip out his heart, wants to bang his head into the concrete over and over again. He restrains himself and only threatens him with some bruising and harsh words.

But after that nothing is the same.

His sister distances herself from Damian, he cuts off his friend, but then true colors begin to show to Damian, only Damian.

Like when he opens his locker and finds it defaced, threats, insults, and strangely enough a feather, like a signature, but to whom does it belong to?

The boy puts on his perfect facade and acts like he actually cares about Damian and as it he had nothing to do with it, but his laughter when he is talking to his group of friends just seems too loud, the kisses he shares with his sister are almost smug, and the perfect smile and the praise he receives from his teachers and classmates leaves a sour taste in Damian’s mouth.

He wished he had asked his father to have his sister homeschool.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Salutations!! I hope you are well❤️❤️

Could you do the Hashira reacting to a reader ignoring/avoiding them?

(AYY SALUTATIONS!! I am good and I hope you are too. Hope you have a wonderful day today)

Hashira’s Reaction to You Ignoring/Avoiding them

(Characters Included- All the Hashira)

(Warning: Nothing, just fluff and swearing)

🦋Shinobu Kocho🦋

- Shinobu finds it oddly out of character for you to just randomly start to ignore her. At first she tries to wait it out a bit, but eventually she loses patience and asks you what’s wrong.

- If you refuse to tell her, she will just keep being persistent on finding out what’s wrong. She knows personally how it feels to bottle up all your emotions and wear a facade and she doesn’t want you to go through all that pain.

🐍Iguro Obanai🐍

- Stands in a “🧍‍” way the first time you avoid him. Even Karburamaru looks at him, then at the direction where you went, back and forth in confusion. He takes that as a hint that you need some time and waits a few days.

- Will buy a few gifts for you and send them to you with his crow. He wants to approach you again but doesn’t want to make it worse so he’ll just wait patiently for you.

🍡Mitsuri Kanroji🍡

- Girl FREAKS OUT. She instantly starts overthinking about what happened. The first scenario that comes to mind is that you’ve lost someone close to you. So she goes to Shinobu to see if she knows if any of your friends and/or family passed away.

- When she learns that no one close to you died, Shinobu questions her on why she wanted to know. She tells her that you’ve been avoiding her and doesn’t know why, and Shinobu advises her to give you some time and you’ll come around. The advice did end up working and you eventually went back to her with the biggest hug as an apology.

🔥Kyojuro Rengoku🔥

- He stays calm in the situation, he tries to think of what made you upset. When he couldn’t connect the dots he walked up to you and expressed his concerns, and informed you that Shinobu can possibly help with some mental health if that’s what you’re struggling with.

- He has faith that you’ll return and that things will get better with your struggles. He makes a mental note to take you on a date soon to show his affection.

🔊Tengen Uzui🔊

- He will ask you straight up what’s wrong. At first he’ll make a joke and try to make you laugh to lighten your mood but when that doesn't work he becomes more serious.

- He asks you if you would be more comfortable with talking/venting to Hina, Makio, or Suma and maybe they could help and provide great comfort for whatever you’re dealing with. He will try to be persistent on finding out what’s wrong but Hina stopped him and told him not to overthink. He listened and waited for you.

☁️Muichiro Tokito☁️

- He would definitely be stunned. After he snaps out of it, he’ll think a bit on what he’s going to do before deciding to give you some alone time.

- He’ll be concerned for your well being though and it will show on his face that he’s got a lot on his mind. He was approached by Rengoku after a Hashira meeting, asking Muichiro what was on his mind. He gave him some friendly advice and words of encouragement and it helped him to approach you.

🌪️Sanemi Shinazugawa🌪️

- He’ll be like “What the hell did this bitch just ignore me?” and will call your name loudly and ask what’s the matter. It may seem like he’s pissed but in reality he just wants to get to the bottom of why you're acting strange (some would say he’s worried- because he is)

- After about a day he’ll start talking to you, trying to figure out what’s the matter. At first he’ll assume that someone else caused this so he’ll threaten to beat someone’s ass if they caused you harm.

🌊Giyuu Tomioka🌊

- He’s confused at first, then he starts to wonder if he did anything wrong to cause you to act like that. So he will go and buy you some small snacks as a way to make you feel better and as an apology just in case he did actually do something wrong.

- Awkwardly gives you the food and says something like “Here, for you.” He hopes that it’ll convince you to stop avoiding him and talk to him, even if you’re just ranting about your problems.

🪨Gyomei Himejima🪨

- It surprises him (surprise Pikachu face) but he figures that something bad happened or you received some sort of terrible news. He waits for you to come to him because he doesn’t wanna pressure you at all.

- When you finally crack, he’ll patiently listen while you tell him what’s the matter. He will give you some advice if you’d like and pat your head wholesomely.

Masterlist

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

[epiphainie]

😱 i've seen "buck comes over randomly and finds tommy with another dude" a couple of times and i want SO MUCH MORE 🙏 underutilized knife to be twisted!

@teabroomsandbooks and anons. i don't know if this will ever be a completed fic but i loved starting it lol, thanks for making me write this one 🫶

___

Tommy's place was an hour and twelve minutes away from the firehouse 118, across the city, out of the way. A seventy-two minute drive, before the morning traffic jammed the roads and slowed down time. As the clock on the Jeep's dash changed from 5:18 to 5:19, Buck knew he wasn't going to make it to the shift relief on time today.

It'd probably be a good idea to let Bobby know.

He didn't know how to say it, though. That he was parked at the end of Tommy's street, watching his door on the rearview mirror. That he'd been parked here since before the sodium lamps dotting the road had even come to life. It was still dark, dawnbreak still away, but at least he had that golden glow over his car, highlighting the creep creeping on his ex at this ungodly hour.

Buck just... couldn't sleep. His kitchen smelled like sourdough starter and his bed felt too empty and too cold even with all the pillows he'd stacked around him, and Tommy had bubbled him. Sure, it'd been weeks ago – the breakup longer than a month behind them now – but lying there on his chilly bed, wide-eyed, Buck just remembered the bubbles. Or couldn't forget about them. Something like that.

He just wanted to talk to Tommy. He just wanted to say something about Eddie leaving and Maddie being pregnant and Bobby being busy with the new Grant-Nash house. He just wanted to ask something. For a clarification of some sorts. Something between 'What did I do wrong?' and 'Why did you even start if you were always going to leave?'

You're the first person who left me when all I heard was that they desperately wanted to stay.

It didn't make sense.

Buck rubbed his eyelids. He looked at the rearview mirror again. Along with the sodium lamps, a single light in Tommy's house had flickered alive. It was the one between the living room and the entrance. The first night Buck had stayed over, Tommy had joked about it being easier on his old pair of eyes as they'd maneuvered around the otherwise dark house getting ready for work.

Tommy would leave in about twenty minutes. Maybe ten if he fancied coffee from that cafe three blocks over that he'd pretended was just okay. 

Mind made-up, Buck released a breath, and tore his keys from the ignition. If anything, he needed to dump all these useless Tommy facts he'd had somewhere and maybe that place could be Tommy's threshold.

He hunched in his walk to the door. He knocked, twice, and waited. Anything more felt too desperate and Buck was sick of feeling desperate.

The door opened to Tommy, his chest exposed, ass jean-clad, hair still mussed. His blue-gray eyes flashed with recognition and something else, and quickly dimmed back.

“Buck,” he said, stepping out to his porch, and pulling the door ajar behind him. His voice sounded low, deep, with that cadence that would fire up a whole different feeling in Buck just a couple of weeks ago. It'd also call him by another name. “What are you doing here?”

As it stood, it just made Buck run his palms on his thighs with nerves.

“I'm sorry,” he said, then cleared his throat. Sticking his hands in his pocket, he took a fortifying breath. “I know it's early, I just…” The breath left him. “Can we talk?”

Tommy stared at him. He didn't look particularly happy or upset about seeing Buck, but Buck could see the line of awkwardness in the way he was standing. His eyes flicked to the door and back and his mouth pinched. “Look, I'm not su–”

“Just talking,” Buck said. Okay, maybe a little desperate. “I'm not here to start a fight or anything, I just want to talk.”

Tommy shook his head. “Not now.”

“Tommy, please, I just need to–”

“Tommy!” interrupted, calling out from inside the house. It wasn't a deep voice, but it certainly belonged to a guy and it was wide-awake, sing-songy, in that playful way reserved for people who weren't just friends.

The door nudged behind Tommy. “Here you are.” Shock of black hair popped out. “So, question. Would you find me using your toothbrush absolutely gross or irresistibly erotic? Because I'm– Oh! Hey.”

He had a dimpled smile. Even with the question laced there dimming the shine of it in his eyes, it was a good smile. Tommy loved good smiles, dimpled ones, sunny ones.

Buck bit on his lip too hard, he tasted copper.

“Evan…”

His eyes slid to Tommy's, then to the hand reaching for him. Before Tommy's touch closed on his elbow, he took a back step down the stairs and turned around.

[linamromero]

𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Boat trips and beach days were your favourite thing to do on your days off in the summer. After winning the liga de campeonas y la liga your squad earned the weekend off before heading off to international duties for the copa del mundo.

“Pass me your phone.” Your girlfriend asked, disturbing you from your topless tanning session.

“Por qué?” You raised a brow at Mariona, reaching for your phone.

“Música.” She jokingly rolled her eyes, luckily you didn’t see through her sunglasses.

You reluctantly passed her your phone as she connected to the speaker playing your playlist. She laid back beside you taking her own top off.

The boat was quite far off the Marina so you were safe from any paparazzi. Your teammates on the other hand didn’t seem to care, Ona, Patri and Claudia were too busy jumping off the boat whilst Lucy was filming them.

“Can you put some sunscreen on my back please.” You looked up at Mariona with a toothy smile on your face.

She nodded in response asking you turn over. You loved it when Mariona put sunscreen on you, let’s just say she’s very good with her hands.

She positioned herself so she was sat on you bum, applying the sunscreen all around your back. Mariona traced your very defined trapezius muscle, running her fingertips over the tiny tattoos you had dotted around your back and neck.

“Cariño.” You mumbled.

“Is that good?” She whispered in your ear.

“Your always good.”

Mariona used the palm of her hand to knead your lower back embedding the lotion into your skin. You bit your lip hard to prevent yourself from moaning, “There mi corazón.”

“Gracias bebita.” You peppered kisses on her face.

You laid on your front so you could tan your back, Mariona loved watching you tan hence why she asked you to wear the smallest thong bottoms you had so she could secretly stare at your ass for the majority of the day.

“Coti x coti please Y/N.” Lucy shouted over to you.

“Vale Lucia.” You put your thumb up at her.

The other girls climbed back on the boat when they heard the music begin to play, dancing with each other. You turned it up louder, going over to join them dancing, dragging your girlfriend with you. You slung your arms around her neck as you sang to each other.

When you met Mariona through playing for España you automatically knew she was the girl of your dreams. Immediately you became friends, inseparable even when both at Barcelona and national camps.

You didn’t let it slide that you liked her like that however after you won the liga de campeonas the first time you confessed everything to her which lucky for you she felt the same way. Ever since then you’ve been together and you both don’t intend on breaking up either.

The music carried on playing and you were still dancing, Mariona’s hands on your hips that were swaying to the beat, her face becoming closer and closer to you your lips almost touching.

“Te quiero.” You mouthed as she connected her lips with yours.

Every time the both of you kissed your heart would explode. The softness of her lips were divine, her hand placements, how close your bodies were to each other was perfect, even better when it was skin to skin.

“Te quiero mucho.” She hummed.

You soon left her presence to get each other another beer, “San Miguel?” In which she nodded.

You opened the bottles handing her one as you sat back down on the boat. She laid in your arms, her head resting on your breasts as you watched Patri and Claudia bicker over who’s drink was who’s.

“If we win the copa del mundo, we will go to Mallorca for a week.” You suggested randomly.

“Sí, private beach resort.” Mariona added.

“And why is that, you want to see your parents no?”

“Sí but you can’t fuck me when they’re around.” Your girlfriend tutted.

“Ay! I mean i suppose not but we have to see them at some point i love your mama’s food.”

“Mhm me too.”

——————

Little did they know that it would come true.

——————

No estoy seguro de esto.

(Not sure about this one).

Espero que disfrutes :)

(Hope you enjoy).

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! Reader, what if Eddie starts receiving some secret admirer letters that don't have any signature on them, only some red lipstick kiss on it and he's curious about who can that be, only when he's on a deal with Cheerleader! Reader, that she's starts to apply some red lipstick on that he connects the dots and he just jumps in excitement saying IT'S YOU! and reader is like Idk what are you talking about (just pretending not to know) but then when Eddie sits again she just starts to talk again and she gest closer to him and then kisses him?

-🩷

Thank you for requesting! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it <3

Red lipstick

Eddie Munson wasn't a guy that girls fawned over. He wasn't a guy girls chase around and try to win over. More like, they ran from him. If he ever had a crush, it was nearly impossible it would be responded to nicely.

He also wasn't friends with girls. He barely talked to any, unless it was on a deal. So imagine the confusion he had when he randomly started to receive little notes. Almost like a secret admirer note. The notes didn't say much, a few words that complimented him in some way. Some talked about his clothes, hair, rings, smile, or his laugh. Which meant this person constantly saw him and was close enough to notice small details.

He had a good feeling it was his friends playing a joke, but he wasn't sure if they'd be that mean. He had a feeling it was a girl based on the neat handwriting, oh! And the fact that every note had a lipstick kiss on it. A deep red, a red that would stain lips. He had to admit, he weirdly stared at his friend's lips lately, trying to see if any smudge of red was still there.

He always received them at the end of each day, in his locker. Well, he assumed, when the notes first started he never went to his locker. One day he needed a random book and tons of notes scattered on the floor by his boots. The excitement of reading the notes brought him back to check his locker every single day. And whenever he checked, there it was. Folded neatly, his name was written on the top with the red kiss mark.

He had no idea who it could be. He didn't talk to any girl one on one unless it was during a deal. And the girls he met with were cheerleaders....no way in hell would a cheerleader be into him.

~~~

Eddie kept the collection of notes in his backpack, not like anything else was in there.

His friends teased him about it all the time. To a point, he believes they aren't part of it.

"Miss lover girl write another one? "

"I bet you kiss the notes at night."

"does it smell like perfume?"

"Are we sure it's not Jason in drag?"

But right now he had to put the mystery aside and work on a deal.

He hummed a song as he sat on the bench, waiting patiently for his next customer. With the extra time, he dug into a few of the notes, his head pounding as he tried to figure out who the hell it was. It's been weeks and weeks. And he still came up with nothing.

"Whatcha got there?" A voice came from behind him. He jumped and quickly hid the notes. He zipped up his backpack as Y/N walked around the table and sat down.

"Nothing!" He squeaked out. She eyed him carefully but moved on. Her movements seemed a little nervous.

He did the deal as usual, but with Y/N they tend to talk about random shit to pass the time. The weed was placed in her backpack, but yet they talked for over an hour.

Her lips were over her water bottle as she sipped the rest of it. She groaned as she noticed there wasn't a lipstick mark, knowing her lips must have been uncoated for a while.

She dug into her backpack, scratching for the small black tube. She smiled once she grabbed it. She grabbed her small compact mirror and opened it.

Eddie watched mindlessly, letting her do her thing as he took in her features. He knew she was beautiful and he knew that she knew it too. The way her lips puckered out as she applied the red stick to her lips. WAIT! RED!

Eddie snatched the lipstick from her hand.

"Eddie what the fuck!"

He ignored her, he smeared the stick against his wrist, the red soaking his skin. The color was familiar and the texture of it was the same.

He smiled excitedly, he figured it out.

He couldn't handle his outburst. He jumped from his seat, disbelief on his face.

"ITS YOU!" He couldn't believe it. A cheerleader, no! Y/N! was writing him love notes.

"Huh?"

"THE NOTES!"

Y/N felt her face heat up, but denied.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" She snatched back her lipstick. She quickly threw it in her backpack but Eddie already had the stain on his skin.

He dug out the notes, flipping one over. The blank side faced him as he slid it over to her.

"Kiss it." He said he didn't care how crazy he sounded. This has been driving him crazy for weeks.

"I'm not kissing a piece of paper." She argued

"Just DO IT!"

She slouched and grabbed the paper. Embarrassed she pressed her lips against the paper. Something she's done countless times, but now in front of him feels so stupid. Why did she think this was a good idea?

Eddie sat down, more calm as he grabbed the paper and matched it with the others.

"It's you."

"Yeah! You've said that!" Y/N snapped. She was panicking. He hasn't said anything but "it's you!" Over and over. Was he happy it was her? Mad? Disappointed? She couldn't tell and it was making her nervous.

"But why?" He asked. The confusion was clear on his face.

"What do you mean why? Why do people send love notes, Munson." She said in a duh tone. She didn't like being played with.

"Well if you like someone! But that's not the case here, so why?" Now that he knew who it was, he couldn't help but feel stung. It was a cheerleader, and he stands by no cheerleader liking him. It must have been a joke with the team or a joke with Jason.

He was hurt by it. He thought they had a small friendship. He liked talking to her and it seemed like she enjoyed being around him too. She didn't run away after the deal, she didn't look over her shoulder in a panic if anyone saw.

Y/N sighed and decided to make another move. She got up and moved to sit next to him. She was nervous, but he probably was even worse.

"I do like you." She admitted quietly, she wasn't sure if he heard it. She barely heard it herself.

"We talk every week...why did you never say anything?" He asked

"I was scared!" She laughed, "I didn't want you to laugh in my face. I know you hate the popular kids and you hate my friends. I was scared you hated me too."

He moved his hand down to his lap, her hand inches away on the bench. He took a deep breath and slowly slid his hand over. His pinky hits hers.

"I like you too. I mean it's hard for me to believe you do like me and this isn't a prank. But I also feel like that's not something you'd do." He explained. "I'm really happy it was you."

He could feel her body perch up, a big smile on her face as she turned her head to look at him.

"Really? Happy?" She asked, he turned his head to match her.

"Mhhm! I always thought you were beautiful. But I don't recall you ever wearing red lipstick on our deals so I didn't exactly expect it to be you."

"I didn't. I barely wear it, only when I usually do the notes. But I guess I was hoping if I slipped up, you'd notice." She admitted

They sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. That's when she noticed how close they were. His pinky was still against hers, their shoulders practically touching.

"Can I kiss you, Eddie Munson?" She asked, her heart pounding.

Eddie has never heard those words in his life. He had a first kiss, but it was on a dare and the girl ran away after. He still remembers how sad he was. But now he had a gorgeous girl wanting to kiss him.

"Yes" he breathed, his heart raced as she leaned in. His cheek burned as her hand held it softly. He's never had someone touch him so delicately. Like he was something special you'd be careful with.

Time froze when her lips touched his. He wasn't sure what to do at first, his hand slowly moved to her thigh, resting his palm against her bare skin as he tried to kiss back. He's seen it in movies, and he's heard his friends talk about it. But he's never heard anyone talk about how amazing he felt. He'd never heard anyone talk about the way his body tingled, the way he felt like he wanted to giggle and scream. He's never heard anyone talk about the pure feeling of happiness and desire running through their body.

But maybe that's because no one kissed her

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[rebeltigera]

Haiii!! I got question:

Do you have any head-canons for mk? Mac? Wuk?

And what is your personal opinion on season 5?

I am responding second time because the first one didn't send :'D

Pls end me.

I don't remember the headcanons I've mustered out the first time damnit -

*sigh*

Those are general ones , I use the design of the character most of the time to show headcanons

For MK

-He's wasted after one beer.

-his tail subconsciously curl against legs of his friends or person he trust

-he chirp subconsciously

-he don't like bitter things like dark chocolate

For Wukong

- he got thick , strong curly fur . When fluffed up texture it reminds of the dust brush

- his body temperature is much higher due to the furnace punishment

-gets headaches due to the circlet (phantom pain)

-he speak and read fluently ancient Chinese , however he got problems with modern language

-he usually sleeps with lil monkeys around

-he can't get drunk.

-monkeys take care of his fur

For Mac

- his ears are too delicate for piercings. They would hurt.

- thin , straight/wavy fur like smoke . He can't stand cold

- he can always hear past and present but future is randomly whispering to him

- he got lower body temperature (due to the shadow nature)

- when drunk he looks like a beast but he's a snuggly wuggly teddy bear

-he takes care of his fur regularly himself

For Mei (because it's lacking in other categories and I don't remember more :'D)

- When she fights she tunes into imaginary music in the background. Like Gwen from spiderverse 2

About S5

*sigh* Vent warning. not directed at anyone in particular

I am unable to put up presentable opinion on this season

Also warning to everyone that will read it

If you are here to defend/ you are touchy on subject of S5 please avert your eyes.

The season was mid at best. , script was rushed, the core of it was S3 with meek antagonist, the most evil character there was a bug demon with many eyes, and SACRIFICE was basically word for this season.

Other things I remember from it is a burnt dumpling and Nezha's mech. Oh and Wukong being useless, Mac carrying season on his back , MK being even more stupid than usual. A random guy with a pagoda and a Twink snake. Nothing else .

Let's put my opinion about the animation now :D

Flying Bark got sacrificed just like MK in this season lol

The animation was a pure nightmare, it's like Seven deadly sins Incident

And if you guys think it will get much better from that in one year (let's say for example they will produce another season next year) you live high on copium and delulu.

Our juicy yummy frame by frame animation was taken away and they gave us RAGDOLL animation.

What does it mean? -AND HERE TUMBLR DECIDED TO CRASH ON ME AND IM WRITING IT 3rd TIME :D- you know how hieroglyphs are animated? Ye, that's basically it with extra steps! HOW FUN. NOW WE HAVE PUPPETS 2D. A FREAKING GACHA FROM YT IF YOU MUST. THOSE IN SOME CASES ARE EVEN BETTER ANIMATED THAN OUR SHOW ITSELF BTW. This has it's perks! I guess. It's cheaper and easier to make episodes! :D the cons are we will no longer see good battles in the show. yay "But we saw Wukong vs MK! And snippet of Wukong vs Mac fight!" please, spare me. If you are telling me those were good fights , that is half assed animation they have no idea how works and two dots clashing with eachother you should go rewatch other seasons. the fucking disgrace and audacity.

But no matter. That i can live off, that i can gulp down.

YOU KNOW WHAT I CAN'T? THE SHEER AMOUNT OF MISTAKES ON BASIC LVL IN ART. I am sitting here looking at those colors, those lines this fucking scenography and ask- what a fucking newbie did this .

YOU CAN'T EVEN GET COLOR RIGHT

AND BEFORE ANY OF U F NERDS WILL COME TO ME AND SAY "UUU ACTUALLY ITS LIGHTING FAULT-" NO ITS FUCKING NOT.

THEY CAN'T EVEN USE SAME COLORS AS IN THE PRIOR SHOT , THEY CANT EVEN SAMPLE IT PROPERLY . BETWEEN THOSE SHOTS NOTHING CHANGE THEREFORE THE LIGHTING IS THE FUCKING SAME

IF YOU DON'T DRAW , AND HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT , JUST -

we have a shiny wukong here

What is this scene , please someone can explain to me the scenography of this

Why this perspective is wrong, the shading, the lack of lighting

Here characters don't even stand properly

WHAT IS WITH THIS AWKWARD SCENOGRAPHY ?

WHY THEY ALL LOOK OUT OF PLACE. AND IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS SHADING BECAUSE ITS SHIT.

HAVE THEY MISSED LIKE ALL BASIC LESSONS IN ART SCHOOLS? OR SOMETHING? LIKE THIS IS A JOKE. NO WONDER PEOPLE THOUGHT TRAILER WAS FAN MADE.

Now this- this is just hillarious.

Just add to it some dramatic intense sound effect and we have another nightmare.

The voice acting was great tho

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o having a diary of compliments

requested by 🐾 anon: "soft thoughts how svt would react when they found out that their s/o writes diary that is full of their picts and a lot of confessions and compliments such as "he looks so good today!" or "how i adore you" like that"

masterlist

seungcheol

as a rule he doesn't so much as glance at your personal things (bc duh, they're personal) but you leave your diary open on your desk when you get a call from your friend and begin pacing around while talking to them. he pops his head into your room, sees you not there, but he notices his name in the book and does a double take. smiles when he sees it's a list titled "things cheol does that make me happy", and glances over at it once before backing away, bc even the knowledge that you made a list like that is enough for him

jeonghan

knew about it, probably secretly orchestrated the whole ordeal and (lovingly) manipulated you into having it by constantly suggesting you should have a diary for him. was still surprised when you actually made one though, finding out when he knocked the journal over on your bedside table while trying to steal your charger again. doesn't tell you that he knows, but does sometimes just look over you n smile all giggly bc wow you love him so so much and he just feels so lucky to have you

joshua

he has one for you too. it was basically a joint project tbh, with both of you deciding to buy diaries for each other on an anniversary of some sorts and just writing in it compliments for each other n put in pictures whenever you think of it. you're under no obligation to tell him what you wrote, but he loves reading his out to you and watching you blush. little does he know that you have "when he reads out his compliments to me" in your diary of things that you love about him <3

junhui

is just so, so touched. thinks that it's the most adorable thing in the world. he complimented you one time when you were lounging around at home, and watched as you blinked and then whipped out the diary, scribbling something furiously. you wouldn't tell him what you'd written, but he'd caught a glimpse of "he called me pretty today" in the book and just laughs, kissing you on the cheek and squishing you into his arms without another word

hoshi

accidentally looked through the diary bc it was on the coffee table and he just thought it was just like, one of those yearly planners or something. pretends to get offended when you (jokingly) yell at him for looking through it bc???? why are you mad it's literally about him??? but he does smile all melty soft and tease you about the fact that you like it when he's all laser-focused while practicing his choreography, earning himself a light slap across the cheek

wonwoo

you've never seen this guy around your things, and you're never going to see this guy around your things, bc he doesn't touch them. still knows you have a book for him tho, or some sort of place where you document the stuff you like about him, and sometimes he'll leave little post-its around the house with comments that uncannily match the things you write about him, like "you look so good today" and "i genuinely adore you so much"

woozi

hmm i'm thinking more of lists of compliments for woozi! he's probably not the best at receiving praise, so to help with that you've attempted to leave little lists of things you've adored the most about him recently. it takes him a while to notice them, dotted randomly around the apartment, and he never mentions them to you but sometimes he smiles just a little wider and comes over and kissed you on the forehead and you know he's seen them and he's grateful for them

minghao

they were all just random little adoring notes, really, but they warmed his heart. things like "i really love him" and "he makes me feel so special" just make him the happiest because it's as if you're acknowledging the extent of his adoration for you, as if you're able to see just how much he loves you, and he loves that so much. tells you how he's seen your diary, all shy and pink-eared, and just smiles even further when you kiss him on the cheek and tell him it's all true

mingyu

his ego just goes Through The Roof when he happens to stumble across your diary dedicated to him. no but honestly, he really just kind of melts with fondness, going all lovely soft and deciding to take you out on an extravagant date right after reading it, refusing to tell you the reason for this spontaneous expensive dinner but also just smiling at you adoringly and giving you cheesy compliments as if you've just started dating all over again

dokyeom

he helped you make your scrapbook that's dedicated to him!! he gave you the scrapbook, the camera you use to take pictures of him, the cute rolls of stickers that you use to decorate it. beams the widest when you tell him you've made another page for him, asks to see it and goes all bright red over the lovely things you've written and the adoration practically emanating from the glued-on photos that you took and stuck in

seungkwan

probably starts crying tbh. it takes him a few accidental encounters with the diary (bc you seriously are so forgetful w your things and keep leaving it out) for the content to truly sink in, but as he's glanced at yet another page with the words "i always love when he makes me smile" on it yet again he can't help but burst into tears on the kitchen island right then and there, making you run to him in panic and hold him as he's an inconsolable mess

vernon

stands there and just . reads the entire thing. he's just so surprised that you have so many things that you love about him, enough for you to have filled almost the entire diary in about 4 months. when you get all embarrassed when he asks you about the diary, he rushes to assure you that it's okay and that he loves it and he was wondering… would it be okay if he made a diary like that for you too? 

chan

he started a diary for you first, and it was when you found out about it that you made one for him too. he didn't know about it, though, and you diligently created page after page of compliments and pictures before presenting it to him as an anniversary gift. he gets all teary eyed, touched to the very core, reading through every page just so reverently and so happy that he was able to be loved by someone as wonderful as you.

request guidelines

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[junosmindpalace]

Hello :) I was wondering if I could request saiki k x reader where the reader has an ability like Wednesday where when they randomly get psychic visions when they touch a certain object/person? I am obsessed with both saiki and Wednesday right now lmao. If you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine ❤️

hi there! thank you so much for your request! i hope it's alright i did this in a hc format, since none of my oneshot ideas really worked out :(

He doesn’t know whether to feel comforted by having another psychic friend who shares his ability to see into a future predicament or not. At least you had enough common sense to not run your mouth over your abilities, but that just made your reactions to your visions all the more questionable.

Your psychic powers differed slightly from Saiki’s. His visions tended to play out quicker than yours, and unlike you, he wasn’t able to see into the past. Even still, he was able to relate to the anxiety they produced. 

Typically they weren’t anything too horrible. You could deal with them rather well, just like Saiki has grown accustomed to his own intrusive powers. But on certain days when the universe just seemed to be throwing anything out there into the world, it could easily get overwhelming. 

Though you could see into the future for a brief couple of seconds like Saiki, you didn’t always have the means to deal with them, let alone deal with them efficiently. However, Saiki had an assortment of different psychic powers at his disposal, and so sometimes he helps you out to avoid being responsible for anything bad that happens to you. 

He makes it out to be a huge hassle of course, but the second you try to take matters into your own hands, he stops you, deals with the issue himself, and scolds you for not being more careful.

Treats you a little bit when your visions are just a little too much. He completely understands being overwhelmed by your powers, and so he’ll do things for you that personally help cheer him up, such as buy you a treat or spend the day lounging around with you in the security of his home. 

This was usually the routine that followed, so much so that it just became a part of your normal.

You’re always using your powers for some kind of good, and though it sometimes tires and stresses Saiki out with how often you put yourself on the frontlines, he can’t help but find it a reason to like you so much. You were just so kind and generous, always going the extra mile just to make someone else's day a little easier- and that included him too.

He’s surprised when you seemingly read his mind and do something he's been meaning to for him, such as getting him a treat he’s been eyeing for a couple of days or delivering an item he accidentally left behind at school. At first he’s confused, but once he realizes you must’ve touched something he had earlier, the dots connect. 

If the rest of his psychic friends try to badger you into using your powers to help them with their own business, he immediately steps in to defend you from getting your kindness taken advantage of, since he knows that your sweet natured heart would never allow you to say no.

”But could Y/N just--” “No. Get lost.”

”But I just need--” “Figure it out yourself.” 

Truly romantical of him. 

Other than those bits, he doesn't linger too much on your powers.

He's glad he can feel confident leaving you alone without making some sort of large commotion with your powers, but he still likes to stay close and take care of you where he can, even if he'll never admit to it outright.

[justalildumpling]

⇢ nct dream at parties

pairing: nct dream x reader  genre: college au, crack, fluff warnings: swearing, mentions of drunkness/partying, vomiting, weed, sex (nothing explicit) word count: 1.1k

note: lowk couldn’t stop thinking about jeno playing beer pong at parties and it led to this… lmao i just realised that a lot of these dot points are based off of irl events HHAHAHAH are u guys any of the dreamies at parties?? genuine question😚😚

Mark

Is probably the host’s friend so he was at the party early, setting up the decorations and accidentally spiking the jello shots with more vodka than the recipe required so it ends up tasting like shit

That being said, he would probably be drunk by the time people start rolling in through the door due to him “taste testing” the shots

Lowkey too drunk to comprehend that people are flirting with him and accidentally dude zones them or fumbles over his words when trying to talk up a hot person (no drunk rizz)

Accidentally cockblocks someone by walking into a random room and flopping on the bed without noticing that they were doing the deed

Starts randomly telling everyone that he’s really good at cooking eggs now and that he’ll prove his improved skills (Spoiler: He either burns the eggs and makes the fire alarm go off or someone drags him away from the kitchen)

Weirdly craves cereal by the end of the night so he pours himself a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch and heatedly discussed with everyone whether milk or cereal should be poured first 

Renjun

I don’t see him getting piss drunk. He would probably pace his drinks well across the night so he can make sure someone haechan and chenle wouldn’t puncture a hole in the host’s wall

He would be sitting around the fireplace outside, chatting to his friends or just random mutuals about anything

Probably ends up yelling scolding one of his friends at some point (e.g. hyuck) for taking too long in the bathroom  

Calls everyone their respective Uber/partner to pick them up at 3am or tucking them into a random room to sleep

Always holding at least 2 vomit buckets after 11pm and waiting for disaster to happen (aka his friends threatening to puke on the living room floor)

Probably ends up with 10+ new followers on Instagram after every party because he literally talks to everyone and unwillingly became co-host of the party (because the original host got so wasted)

Very exhausted by the end of the night and swears to never go to one ever again (Spoiler: He does because Donghyuck drags him)

Jeno

You cannot tell me that this man would not be at the beer pong table 70% of the night, like nothing can distract this man from winning every round. A hot girl trying to fuck? Nope. Someone offering more alcohol? Nope. Jaemin is throwing up in the bathroom? Ok, maybe.

Unironically would like the taste of cheap beer (maybe he just used to the taste of it after the sheer amount he had to drink from that godforsaken game)

If he gets drunk enough he would start flexing his muscles and comparing sizes with the guys

Probably thinks he looks and acts like the sexiest person alive at that party but in reality becomes a cute little fluff ball and is babied by Jaemin whenever he sees him

He would not be aware of the volume of his voice and would start shouting everything that comes out of his mouth like Renjun could be like 5m away from him but he’d be like “JUN CAN YOU GET ME DORITOS FROM THE PANTRY” and would probably get repeatedly shushed

Ends up drunkenly walking home around 2am 

Haechan

Goes ham on pre drinks and turns up to the party ‘fashionably late’ so he can make a grand entrance

He would be holding a bottle of some sort at all times (whiskey, vodka, tequila, soju pick your poison) and chugging it by the mouth and offering it to anyone he sees and suspects to be “too sober”

responsible for 80% of the queued songs on the party playlist and would turn the living room into a rave

Ubereats KFC halfway into the night, chowing down on way too many wicked wings and stubbornly not sharing to others or if he did, would ask them to venmo him double the money required because he charges “interest”

Would throw up in a fake plant by the end of the night

Jaemin

If this party had a theme/dress code he’s the type of person to dress up as himself ⎯ like the most effort he’ll put into a costume is writing Na Jaemin on an A4 piece of paper and sticking it to his shirt

Probably only came to the party because of the food and that Jeno was going

Mans would either be the most sober one there and taking care of his friends or wasted af and doing the stupidest shit like walking into the same closed door for the tenth time and getting pissed that it wouldn’t let him through

He would probably bring his film camera and take embarrassing photos of his friends and taunting them with it like a month later when the film gets developed

Complains about the taste of alcohol but keeps drinking because he has nothing else to do

He would end up passing out face first on the ground somewhere in the house by the end of the night and scaring the host the next morning 

Chenle

Brings his own expensive ass alcohol as well as raiding the host’s stash too

Like Renjun, i also don't see him getting piss drunk but the difference is that Chenle’s goal of the night was to get black out drunk but couldn’t because his alcohol tolerance was too high

Either sitting by the fireplace being loud or running around the house and annoying people by being loud

The biggest hype man for his friends to do idiotic things (e.g. cheering hyuck on whilst he’s in the process of getting alcohol poisoning)

He would see some people smoking a joint and would join for the lols

He would be the reason for the party getting a noise complaint and the police turning up

Jisung

Probably would take him a couple hours into the party to get drunk and horrified/scared for his friends’ reputation whilst they’re drunk

But once the alcohol hits his system, he would be clinging onto his friends when drunk, wobbling around mumbling his love for everyone

If he has a crush on someone, you bet your ass he’s gonna drunk text a confession and cry when he gets rejected

Would accidentally eat someone’s pot brownies thinking it was the normal ones and being paranoid as hell for the rest of the evening

Would kiss someone jeno’s foot and wouldn’t remember it the next day until someone shows him photographic evidence

taglist: @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @polarisjisung @dearlyminhyung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @daincty @deehyuck @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @rum-gone-why @mxnhoeuwu @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon

[ultimatefartwizard]

NOT FUCKING AGAIN! THE MUSICAL ( TF EARTHSPARK MESSAGES AND MANDROID'S GENOCIDAL HORRORS EDITION)

Holy shit I am losing my mind... @monocle-teacup you better read this <3 (dead serious though cuz wtf)

Also of course as always, spoilers ahead this time for season 2 of earthspark so dont want it? skedaddle (s2 isnt worth caring about though, trust me)

Also again nobody go witchhunting or harassing anyone, this is discussion of media and someones poor takes on some clear themes in a show.

Okay you're using THE TERRIBLE WRITING OF S2 TO PROVE YOUR LITTLE HORRIBLE SLIMY GENOCIDAL GREASEMAN IN THE RIGHT???? WHY ARE YOU VOUCHING FOR HIM. WHY DO YOU SAY HIS IDEAS ARE RIGHT AUUUUGH-

How you continue to have terrible takes astounds me 💀 You can't be serious man how are you this like,,, braindead? And ignoring all of what S1 is trying to teach even before S2 came out? oh wait.

You choose your attraction of a gross ass man over LITERAL IN YOUR FACE PLOTPOINTS BECAUSE YOU'D RATHER MEATRIDE YOUR BABYGIRL MANDROID OVER EVERYTHING THE SHOW HAS BUILT UP. Not like you probably ever cared to connect any of the dots.

Oh, to help you do that, I have a previous post I made where I pinged you! You should read it before you read anymore, it'll help with what I'm about to preface here. Please READ IT.

Okay, time to dig into literally EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SEEM TO LET GO OF THIS MAN AND HIS OBVIOUS LACK OF HUMANITY IN HIM AND CONTINUE TO SEE SOMETHING THATS NOT THERE. I will start off by saying the quality of the writing for season 2 and season 2's entire disregard for season 1 don't discredit season 1, no matter what nonsense there is. I hate season 2 for all its going for thus far and its just genuinely a waste of my braincells to try watching it again. There are also things not specifically related to mandroid but are also pet peeves that show your lack of attention to detail.

How. Did you miss this. Humans have been living with bots for 30 to 40 years at this point they don't bat an eye at them because THEY THINK THEY'RE JUST SOME BOTS CASUALLY WALKING AROUND. They don't give a fuck about the terrans; only a select few know they are even earth-born bots. Transformers have been living amongst humans casually don't you think they wouldn't give two fucks and know not to gawk at random robots walking around like they just started existing?

You saw the Philadelphia episode (I hope? because you act like you haven't) or really any episode they are just chilling and walking around, you didn't notice nobody gave a damn? What about Optimus, Elita 1, and other bots? Would you randomly gawk at a group of sapient beings walking amongst you who've been there for a lifetime?

No.

They had to hide FROM GHOST not FROM THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE. Ghost would have tried to capture them and imprison them by deeming them a threat for merely existing, not humans as a whole. The fact you miss this entire detail is incredibly sad.

Okay now onto Mandroid stuff because you never stop meatriding him MY GOD

Huh, maybe you need to USE YOUR BRAIN and realize he was not protecting earth. He -thought- he was, because he perceived them as vermin who need to be wiped out and a threat to humanity. Like I said before in my last post DECEPTCONS DO NOT EQUAL ALL OF TRANSFORMERS OH MY GOD. Plus with this season its clear there can't be the same writers on this team. They have sacrificed the story for toymaking opportunities DON'T YOU THINK MAYBE HE'S NOT RIGHT JUST BECAUSE S2 SOMEHOW SAYS THE -CONS IN SPECIFIC (NOT ALL BOTS MY FUCKING GOD)- ARE TO NOT BE TRUSTED AND ARE DANGEROUS? USE YOUR CRANIUM THAT EVOLUTION HAS GIVEN YOU. Mandroid conflated every single transformer with a twisted ideal in his head born out of hate, not from a true sense of danger nor did he separate cons and autobots or unaligned bots in his head from the conglomerate "evil" he thinks they are.

As above so below, you're DEFENDING HIS TERRIBLE GENOCIDAL BEHAVIOR BY BEING LIKE "HE MIGHT HAVE DONE BAD STUFF BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY HE WAS JUST PROTECTING EARTH" over a giant guardian robot who's being mind controlled and had no intention to do this or will of her own. Why are you so adamant on convincing yourself he was a good or commendable man? Where is your basic comprehension of anything in this show at all. HE TRIED TO COMMIT GENOCIDE ON A WHOLE RACE OF BEINGS WHO HAD BEEN COEXISTING ON EARTH FOR YEARS. It's not something you can go 'erm acshually-" on.

He literally killed EVERYONE who was a transformer; even if their death wasn't permanent they still died because he saw them all as a disease needing to be eradicated.

He has no sense of humanity, only hate in his heart and the need to destroy. How do you think he was protecting earth when he had succeeded at murdering an entire population off the face of the earth even if it's only for about 5-10 minutes? HOW ARE YOU THIS BLIND TO MEATRIDE HIM THIS HARD.

I honestly doubt they knew about her, let alone understood the glyphs everywhere. They were just mapping ancient tunnels and figuring it out; Croft also probably forbid anyone from entering due to the DWELLERS, not Terratronus; she was well off course and well protected/hidden by dirt and freaky alien monsters. Even if they somehow DID know, GHOST probably just utilized Terratronus to justify imprisoning dozens of transformers; whether they were cons, neutral, or autobots that didn't want to be part of a government mass incarceration and control program. Mandroid probably didn't give a shit at the moment because he was busy trying to squash literal children like bugs. Shut up about this stupid attempt at the executives making money off of random plot bullshit and toymaking opportunities.

AS STATED IN MY LAST POST: YOU ARE CONFLATING DECEPTICONS WITH ALL TRANSFORMERS, AS MANDROID DID. ONE GROUP DOES NOT EQUAL ALL OF THEM, AND DOES NOT MAKE TRANSFORMERS AS A WHOLE DANGEROUS IF THERE ARE INDIVIDUALS WHO CAUSE TROUBLE. MANDROID SAW ALL TRANSFORMERS AS A THREAT EVEN IF THEY HAD BEEN LIVING WITH HUMANS PEACEFULLY FOR DECADES. YOU ARE HERE SIMPLY REITTERATING A STUPID AND NULL POINT THATS PROVEN WRONG AGAIN AND AGAIN IN S1. His reasoning behind his actions are "we need to get rid of these filthy dangerous vermin who are invading our precious planet." Also the chaos terrans being born evil is a horrible plotpoint and groups being born evil is terrible writing, just like the entirtey of Season 2 because these new writers on the team understand nothing about the show as is. (Yes, most of the writers in s2 never worked on s1)

This one. this one enraged me. This is the most recent post I'd seen about mandroid as of writing (june 8th) and you have SERIOUS AUDACITY to say this. HE KILLED ALL OF THE MALTO BOTS AND TRIED TO KILL ROBBY AND MO; WHAT MAKES YOUR FUCKING MANDROID LOVING SHRUNKEN AND POCKED BRAIN THINK THAT HE WOULD TEAM UP WITH THEM LIKE SOME BUDDY BUDDY ADVENTURE? HE ATTEMPTED AND COMMITTED GENOCIDE, UNETHICAL EXPERIMENTATION, CHILD MURDER, AND MORE.... HE WOULDN'T MAKE JUST """""SMARTASS COMMENTS""" HE'D STRAIGHT UP HATECRIME ALL OF THEM.

I'm not gonna be nice with this last one. You are incredibly media illiterate if not just lacking basic cognition to think he of all people would willingly team up with people he wanted to kill off during season 1. You watched the finale of season 1 and GATHERED NOTHING FROM IT. You, in all your 34 years of life, somehow have not obtained a single gram of "maybe I shouldn't vouch for and defend a person who's xenophobic and wants to commit genocide" despite enjoying writing and HISTORY. HOW ARE YOU ONE TO ENJOY HISTORY YET MAKE NO CONNECTIONS TO ATTROCITIES COMMITTED BY PEOPLE TO WHAT MANDROID IS DOING AND HOW THEY ARE WRONG AND ENTIRLEY UNFORGIVABLE. At this point I believe you to be willfully ignorant to pass off your crush on this man as okay and convince yourself he is right somehow; even going as far as to utilize this new season as an excuse for him.

Your audacity to think he is anything other than a pathetic horrible man with terrible and morally bankrupt goals and actions somehow will be nice to groups of people he hates astounds me to no end. The show gives you all you need to connect the dots and you haven't. I'm aware i'm likely talking to a brick wall because you're likely willingly ignorant to excuse yourself or will never read this but I will call out this nonsense regardless. It comes off as extremely weird and bordering on you just believing in the ideologies he spouts.

I will say this again to make it clear; Mandroid is a stand-in for people who believe in racist and xenophobic ideas, and will stop at nothing to destroy them. The transformers are an allegory for refugee immigrants, and the terrans are first gen decedents. You continuing to believe his lies and defending him just borderlines on you upholding racist ideals. (That might sound deranged af of a claim but considering the context... yeah)

TLDR for lazy people: This fool pinged in this post is claiming a character who ATTEMPTED TO COMMIT GENOCIDE as being in the right somehow with his ideals/actions and not a total morally bankrupt person. Meatriding getting in the way of logic.

-No cheers to you, Wizard and Cupid

[gamerbearmira]

Wish???? WHATTTTT

So this is different from my usual content but I randomly wrote this??? Very short snippet last night and did the drawing this morning.

Mostly got to do with the rewrite I wanna do; Asha's childhood would be a lot more relevant, especially her father. Like he was barely mentioned in the movie, and I understand he was dead and all, but dang, barely even a name drop is CRAZY

any uhhhhh have fun reading ig idk

—————

Asha sat on the large tree, its branches knarled and aged as she gazed out at the vast ocean. She looked upwards, the stars twinkling high above her. She remembered when her papa would sit next to her, singing and telling stories about the stars and wishes.

Wishes.

She never really knew what her wish was. Not really. But now that she was 13, and everything had changed so much in only a year...she knew what she wanted it to be.

But she knew it'd never be granted.

Never in the history of Rosas was a wish like it granted. To bring someone back from the dead. Sure, King Magnifico was powerful, but even Asha had her doubts abiut a wish like that.

But even then, she was sure her father wouldn't want that. Certainly not her mama or Saba. No, he'd want her to move on and be happy. He always talked avout how she should have a wish, a dream, and hold onto it tight.

She looked down at her hands. She fiddled with her curls before sighing and leaning back and looking up at the sky again. "Star light, star bright..." She hummed softly. Her eyes scanned the sky before they landed on a star that twinkled a little brighter than the others. "First star I see tonight,"

Asha stood, carefully keeping her balance as she walked along the branches, climbing higher. "I wish I may, I wish I might," she grunted, pulling her self up onto one of the higher branches. "Have this wish I wish tonight."

She stared at the star for a long time. Closing her eyes, she whispered something. Something on shr and the star above could hear. When she opened them, she swore the star shone beighter, just for a flicker of a second. She blinked, her hands gripping the bark and she leaned closer. Her lips parted as she gasped softly. But before she could say or do anything further, she heard bleating from below. She dropped down on the branch, leaning over the edge.

"Valentina! How did you get out if the barn?" Asha wuickly climbed down, her attention from the star distracted—but not forgotten. Once down on the ground, she picked up the goat, nuzzling her surprisingly soft but dense mohair. "Your getting big! Soon I won't be able to pick you up anymore," she laughed. It was true. Valentina's back hooves were nearly touching the ground now.

Valentina let out another bleat, nudging Asha before the girl let her down. "You always know how to find me. Of course, I'm always at the same placed," she said, walking off, with the goat trotting after her after munching at rhe small flowers that dotted the grass. As she walked, she glanced back at the star. It looked normal again. But for some reason, deep down, she knew it wasn't just a figment of her imagination. She could feel it, deep in her heart.

She sighed, walking down the path back to the village and to her house. It was late. Valentina walked beside her, her long, droooy ears flicking absently. Asha suddenly turned to her companion. "You know. One day, I'm gonna be a great wizard like King Magnifico," she bent down, picking up a long stick resembling a staff. She twirled, waving it around. "Just imagine. Me, Asha, weilding magic and making everyone's wish come true!" She laughed, turned to Valentina, who was watching her while lazily chewing on some grass.

With a soft sigh, she continued walked, her homey cottage coming into view. Valentina had already begun walking back to her pen, but Asha lingered outside her door, looking up st the sky one last time. "I swear it. I'll grant everyone's wish."

—————

Asha's young teen design keeps changing 🌚 not by much. Pretty similar to her kid design, idk.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I would have typed it out but didn't want to risk it being filled up before I finished typing ^^;

The Arcana HCs: When MC hides their natural hair color

~ @fox-daddy thanks for the request friend! I hope I do it justice ^.^ ~

-- for background: MC is insecure about their hair color and covers it up with dye. Due to unforseen circumstances, the potion they need for it runs out of stock and their roots start to grow out! How do the M6 respond? --

Julian

He's surprised, but he's not that surprised

Like yeah, it turns out that you have a different hair color! You learn something new every day!

But you're a magician, right? You're telling him that you don't just close your eyes and mumble something mysterious and then your hair goes "poof!" and it's the color you want it to be?

Assumes it's just a preference thing until you tell him that it's because you're insecure about it

Might ask for a strand of your hair so he can put it under a microscope and study how the stuff you uses changes its properties. Compliments both shades the whole time

Might also try creating his own hair-coloring concoction to tide you over until you can get your usual stuff again

You caught him grinding dried beetles, Nevivon salts, and charcoal together at three AM and applying it to his copious chest hair to test its effectiveness

Has to be told not to tell other people about your hair color

Occasionally asks if he can peek at your roots to remember what the other color is

Asra

Oh, they already knew

In fact, he was the one who remembered the stuff you used to keep around the shop and connected the dots when you came back looking the same except for your hair color

And they were the one who told you that it was an old habit of yours and left it up to you to decide if you wanted to keep it up

Yes, he helped you apply it the first time (and still loves to participate if you invite him)

Yes, they took that as their cue to try out plenty of colors on their own hair

He had the wildest neon tips for a while

Muriel's still getting over the heart attack he had, waking up to see his childhood friend crashing at the hut with glowing rainbow streaks randomly clumped through their curls (and eyebrows! It was creepy!)

When you run out of your supply, he's quick to cast a glamor over it to help with the anxiety before running through his own magic books to see if there's anything useful to try

They like both hair colors on you, but their favorite is the one that makes you comfortable in your own skin

Nadia

She thought she could see a hint of roots here and there, but she never really pursued it because there were more interesting things to talk to you about

So when those roots started growing out to the point that they were very noticeable, she was a bit surprised

Are you changing things up? Are you dying your roots to introduce a new color, or are you growing out an old one?

Would you like any wardrobe additions to complement it?

You don't really need to tell her that you're insecure about it, she's very tuned in to your needs and it only takes a comment or two from her for her to recognize your reaction and change course

Immediately sets up some kind of appointment to get your hair to its normal color while you wait for the stuff you usually use to become available again

Briefly considers dying her own hair and quickly decides against it

Will make back up plans in case this happens again, and does bring up potentially experimenting with other colors as well, if it's just the original color that you dislike

Maybe a nice, deep purple to match hers ...?

Muriel

He already knew and didn't mention it

Seriously, do you know how tall he is? The first glimpse he gets of people is the tops of their heads. You'd have to be dying your hair multiple times a week to hide roots from him

That aside, he's more observant than he lets on. He's seen the stuff you use to color it tucked in the corner of the hut

And he's never brought it up, because if anybody knows what it's like to be insecure about parts of your body that you can't help, it's him. You don't know how quickly he'd shrink if he could

So when you run out, and the roots start to show (from your perspective), and you keep waiting for him to comment on it ...

He doesn't

Not until you bring it up at least. He's just going to assume that you decided to grow it out or stop hiding it

If you do address the elephant in the room, he'll just tell you that he doesn't really care

At least, not about the color. He cares if you're happy, obviously, all the colors look good on you -

Aaand all that mushy talk is all it takes for his face to go up in flames and for him to go for a quick walk to cool down

Portia

She didn't figure out that you were dying your hair because she saw your roots, sweetie, she figured it out as soon as she had the chance to help you wash it

What, you think an expert handmaiden like her doesn't know treated hair when she sees it? Do you know what kind of extensive training she did to help milady with her luscious locks?

She's also completely oblivious to people being insecure about their looks. Especially you. You always look great

So she doesn't even think twice before pointing your roots out to you as soon as they start to show! She's never seen you let this happen before, what's up with that?

Are you trying something new? She can help!

You're insecure about your hair color? What?? Why???

... yeah, she won't force you to talk about it, but if there's any kind of backstory or explanation she will ask you to spill the tea

She'll also pull out all of her own hair care know-how and cobble something together to dye your hair the color you prefer until you get your usual stuff again

Surprised that you don't just magic it to look however you want

Lucio

It took him longer than you expected, to be honest

You already had a few close calls on longer trips, where bathing options were limited to the streams you passed by with whatever toiletries you had packed

And you know he's his own bisexual version of *extra* when it comes to his appearance

His eyeliner application routine is meticulous, finnicky, and a daily source of frustration when he inevitably slips up

This doesn't translate onto you, though, because you're his wonderful, gracious, super cool MC who makes life exciting and new again. He's not paying attention to your roots!

Until they really start to grow out, and he has a mini meltdown about it

You mean to tell him. That you have been regularly setting aside time to pay attention to your physical appearance with something as exciting as hair dye. And you didn't think to invite him?!?

Yeah he doesn't have opinions about the color or a bunch of curiosity about why you dye your hair, he's just mad you left him out

Let him back in, please. The dogs need highlights on their tails

[howlingmod]

Are you bored yet?

summary ; human/actors au again ... reader is a local clay worker that Wally may or may not like just a teeny bit. meetcute coric ..

notes ; they/them used for reader , not proof read and just a teeeny tiny bit rushed (i am sleepy) . glass breaks but there is no violence or anything ..

wc - 2k

He really should’ve been more careful, looking back on it now.

Yes, it’d been a while since he’d gotten that vase and set it down, but, really, for walking past it every single day, he should’ve realized how precariously it sat on the table. He should’ve realized that sooner or later, he was going to be too tired to remember to give it some space when he walked back into his apartment. Unfortunately, however, he did not in fact realize that in time. And so, he is tragically faced with the terrible fate of going and buying a new vase. Perhaps this time, he will not place it so precariously. Perhaps this time he will buy a thicker one that has less chances of shattering into one-thousand tiny pieces in the dark at around 10pm on a Thursday. He had much to think about in his journey of replacement.

Luckily, for as long as he’d had the vase, he could still vaguely recall where he’d gotten it from. It was some pottery store he’d randomly passed by once just outside of the city, curiousity (and fatigue, if he remembers right, it’d been an eventful day and he was still too jittery to lay down quite yet) getting the better of him when he’d noticed it. The owners were nice enough, an older couple who he could recall telling him long-winded stories about anything tangentially related to what he’d been looking at. Plates with flowers painted on them prompted a story about some unidentified, gorgeous plants one of them had seen around a river long ago. A cup with an oceanic color-scheme had prompted a tale of a seagull one of their previous coworkers would feed bits and pieces of bread to on their break. So on, so forth. Long winded for anyone passing through, but pleasant for someone just tired enough to want white noise and easy, one-sided conversation.

Getting into his car, he wondered if they’d have any stories to tell him this time. He would likely be better conversation this time, now that he was less exhausted from being around other people for a long, exciting period of time and more tired from waking up at some time before 11am on a rare free day. He found himself gathering excitment somewhere in his chest, bubbling up in fondness at the idea of this little trip. Sure, it was just a silly little thing to be excited over, but it was nice to have a break from monotony, wasn’t it?

It was a nice day out, too. The breeze forgiving and the sun sociable in the sky, bright rays easily negotiated to peace with sunglasses. It’d been a while since he’d ventured out of the city. Sure, it’s not as though he lived in the heart of it, but it was still different to see the buildings like miniatures from afar. It was a nice break from the towering skyscrapers and heavy traffic. Especially the traffic, actually. He’d never been good with handling bad drivers.

There wasn’t anyone else in the parking lot, only one or two other cars there, likely the owner’s or someone in a closeby building’s. There were a few other businesses dotted around in the area, some strip mall closeby and a park on the way there. He was likely just early, there probably aren’t many people stopping to buy pottery at 9am.

The inside of the store was quiet enough, music playing softly enough you had to pay attention to the murmurs to pick up on it. The lights shone on everything, not blindingly as much as it was in gentle awareness of everything. As his eyes refocused, he could’ve sworn he seen a vague shape duck into a doorway near the back of the store. Before he could properly investigate his suspicions, his attention was drawn away.

“Well, I was wondering when the resident celebrity was coming back!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, turning to face his company. “I hope I’m not intruding, it seems I’m rather early this time.”

The older woman he recognized from his previous visit smiled and shook her head, “Much earlier, I’m glad to see the cold night didn’t drag you in this time.”

He returned the smile, pushing his hands into his pants pockets as he replied, “Oh no, I was actually coming to look and see if you had any new vases in.”

She’d lit up at his words, straightening up with intent to lead him off, “Of course! We’ve got plenty of new ones in since last time, I’m sure we can find one to your liking.”

-

“-turns out, that hammering I thought I’d heard from the neighbors had just been a big woodpecker all along!”

He’d smiled fondly, “Ah! You don’t see many of those around here, do you?” He was careful to keep a good grip on the vase in his hands, decorated in an intricate scene of a forest dotted with various birds. From the minute details on every pine needle and carved indents on certain elements, he could only imagine how long it’d taken to make.

“No, no you don’t,” she’d laughed, shaking her head as she looked back to the shelf filled to the brim with other, equally eye-catching vases. He’d studied the one in his hands a moment longer, carefully tracing over the carving of texture in a tree before perking up at a new sound.

A soft ‘clink’ had snapped him out of his thoughts. Initially, he’d figured the old woman had picked up a new piece to show him, but found she was still studying the selection herself. He’d turned around quickly, curious to see if anyone else had stopped in, but the store was empty. That was when his eyes caught that doorway again, vaguely making out the shape of shelving in the darkened hall. On that shelving sat one vase, darkness obscuring the pattern of it.

“Why put that one piece there?”

The woman had snapped out of her own thoughts, looking back at him momentarily before following his gaze to the pot patiently sitting in the shade. Upon noticing the object of his attention, she’d smiled once more and turned back to him, “Our resident potter puts their finished work there so we can price it and set it out.”

That had caught his attention. “Resident?”

“Oh yes! While we do get a fair amount from other sources, just as fair an amount is homemade,” she hummed, “Would you like to meet them?”

He’d readjusted his hold on the vase again, not wanting to risk another work in his excitement, “If that wouldn’t be a bother.”

She shook her head, “I’m sure it’ll be quite alright, chances are they would appreciate the conversation, artist-to-artist.”

Before he could offer any sort of further fret, she’d started off towards the hall, leaving him to stand awkwardly with the glassware on his lonesome. He’d glanced at the large cardinal on the surface of the piece one final time before hurriedly (and carefully) placing it back on the shelf, jumping to catch up.

-

It was far darker back here than it had been in the main area of the store. Combined with the noticable increase in temperature, however, it was more comfortable than you would’ve imagined. Through the shade he could pick out calenders, notes and other miscellanious papers littered along walls and desks. Half-dirtied rags were scattered on shelves, various bottles standing not far from them nor the different tools lying about. Before he could even try and dissect what their uses would be by simple observing and guessing, the woman spoke up again.

“I hope you don’t mind some company, (Name),” she chimed, speaking just a tad louder to properly catch attention in all the visual noise.

With that, he’d finally noticed the figure standing in front of a tall table near the middle of the room, turning their head to look towards her. Their eyes flicked to him momentarily in what he could only assume was surprise. They’d straightened up from their hunched over position, wiping their hands off on a dirtied apron as they walked around the table and towards the pair.

Oh no.

They’d opened their mouth to start talking to her, but he couldn’t pick up on any of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was focusing on, he just knew that he was particularly distracted by the person in front of him and it wasn’t exactly getting any better the more and more he zoned out. He couldn’t make out every detail perfectly in the low-lighting, but it was enough that he could very, very easily tell this person was very, very attractive.

“-so you’re that one guy on tv?”

“Yes!” He flinched as he snapped out of his thoughts, “Wally Darling, but just Wally is more than fine.”

You’d smiled and for a brief moment he had to hope and pray his wasn’t too dopey and the low light hid the heat in his face as you stuck your hand out. There was a brief moment your smile faltered, as though suddenly realizing something, but it wasn’t a fast enough reaction as he’d snatched up your hand. Your hands were, similarly to the rest of the room, noticably warmer. They were also noticably sticky with clay, some already drying out on your skin as the rest, inevitably, would likely dry to his.

“And could I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” You looked like you were stuck between apologizing for getting the blood of your work on him and introducing yourself, glancing between him and your hands for a few moments. He vaguely realized this was probably a bit long for a handshake. Eventually, you managed a weak smile, righting your grip on his hand, “(Name).”

“That’s a very lovely name,” he stated plainly, hoping you could pick up on the sincerity in his flatter tone, “How long have you been working with ceramics, if you don’t mind my asking?”

You’d perked up at that, seemingly completely forgetting about the handshake (that was still yet to properly break apart, this was definitely not a proper one, anymore) with the topic of your work. “Well, that’s a bit of a difficult question. I’ve been working with clay for a long, long time, but I really only picked it up career wise a year or two ago.”

“Ah! That figures, your work is all very professional looking, it’s very impressive,” he complimented. Sure, he might’ve been laying it on a little thick, but it seemed as though he’d suddenly lost the ability to control his words, them tumbling out before he could even really think about it.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to mind, instead reaching up a hand to rub at the back of your neck. “Well, I don’t think my work is that stellar, but I really appreciate it. It uh- it definitely takes some time, it’s nice to see it goes to good use.”

“It’s nothing, really. If you don’t mind, could I watch for a bit? It’s completely fine if not, I really am just curious to see how you go about it.” Yes, he was definitely pushing his luck a little bit. In his defense, however, he was genuinely curious about how you managed to get all your vases so smooth and pack so many details onto such a small, unconventional canvas. It was just an added bonus that he’d possibly get to find out more about you, that was all! He can’t help the mysterious potter he hadn’t even known existed was not only nice on the eyes but, so far, was nothing short of pleasant.

You’d thought on it a moment, moving the hand at the back of your neck to hang at your jaw absentmindedly, “I suppose that would be fine by me, I can’t promise it’ll be too entertaining though.”

He smiled and shook his head, “Not a problem at all! I’m sure I can find enough entertainment for the both of us, I am an entertainer myself, after all.”

You returned his smile, finally letting go of his hand and breaking off your entirely-professional handshake to turn and head back to your workstation, “Well, make yourself comfortable, then.”

"Oh, trust me, that won't be any problem at all."